"You need help," my father shouts to my brother in the evening. It's 9:43 p.m., everyone thinks I'm sleeping and I doesn't realize what I've done. My sister, who is next door, cut both of her forearms when she was 12 because I was regularly in the emergency room because of this shit when I was 15.
I'm 17 now and still clean... She's 15 now and in the middle of it. Because of me. "The first time was because of you, but not anymore" thank you, darling, thank you. I was 10 years old when I was constantly disinfecting my hands during a panic attack because my sister was throwing up next door. I've had this fucking emetophobia for as long as I can remember. I tell myself that as soon as someone is sick, I have to wash my hands after every touch with something that "might be contaminated" so that I don't get sick too. I have never hidden this because it is vital to my survival in these moments. My brother, who has copied this and has been washing his hands at least 30 times a day for months, is breaking my heart. I cannot allow my two younger siblings to have to go to therapy because of me. I can't live with the guilt that they both got so sick because of me. I would love to take my own life to free myself from this guilt. I don't want them to do the same as me. I want to redeem myself but see my siblings continue to fight from heaven. It's not my place to decide about her life, but I can make decisions about mine. But what if my suicide also means that of my siblings? Do I still have the right to end MY own life? I love them both more than anything. Nevertheless, I secretly wish for a huge argument so that we can distance ourselves, both of them can heal and I can be left alone with my fucking mentally ill shit so that I can take my own life without consequences for others.
